


If He Wins

by barbitone



Series: Captive Prince Fanfiction [17]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Berenger (Captive Prince), Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: “It’s dangerous for you to stay with me,” Berenger had said.“I’ve done more for less,” Ancel had countered with a victorious glint in his eyes.So Berenger hadn’t ended their contract, despite all his misgivings. He hadn’t ended it, because he was selfish and stupid and scared.He liked Ancel and he didn’t want to be alone.Follow up toSunset, Sunrisebut can be read as a standalone post-Pet fic
Relationships: Ancel/Berenger (Captive Prince)
Series: Captive Prince Fanfiction [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1455904
Comments: 29
Kudos: 169





	If He Wins

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sunset, Sunrise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678757) by [barbitone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone). 



> While this is meant to be a follow up to [Sunset, Sunrise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678757), it can be read as a standalone post-Pet fic
> 
> The only context you need, and this is context that I now consider 100% canon in all instances- is that Berenger and Auguste were friends and Berenger had a big ole unrequited crush on our golden prince.

* * *

“It’s dangerous for you to stay with me,” Berenger had said.

“I’ve done more for less,” Ancel had countered with a victorious glint in his eyes.

So Berenger hadn’t ended their contract, despite all his misgivings. He hadn’t ended it, because he was selfish and stupid and scared.

He liked Ancel and he didn’t want to be alone.

In the coming weeks Ancel proved himself an invaluable asset, maneuvering and scheming on Berenger’s behalf. The only thing Berenger could do to show his gratitude was shower Ancel with jewels, though perhaps he did that for his own benefit, too. He liked the way Ancel smiled at every pretty trinket, the light in his eyes and the sweet little sigh he breathed out every time he opened a gift.

No jewels could compare to the shine of Ancel’s burnished hair or his forest green eyes. Not even the finest silks could feel nicer to the touch than Ancel’s creamy freckled skin.

They maintained the ruse of a strained relationship in public while in private they’d curl up together in Berenger’s bed- Berenger listening attentively while Ancel shared all the latest court gossip and ate sweetmeats off a gilded tray. Berenger never complained about Ancel getting powdered sugar all over the sheets, or the way Ancel’s fingers- tacky with syrup- would leave greasy marks whenever Ancel touched his shoulders or chest when he laughed.

It was Ancel, in the end, who saved the both of them.

He burst into Berenger’s bedroom in the middle of the night and started throwing clothes at him, muttering nervously.

“What’s going on?” Berenger asked, blinking slowly as he sat up.

“They’re coming for you in the morning,” Ancel hissed. “The Regent’s men. You’re to be hung as a traitor. We have to go. I bribed the guards on the south-east gate but we have to go _now.”_

Berenger’s blood ran cold and he made to dress in a hurry. “What about Parsins?” he asked as Ancel rushed over to help him with his laces. “And the others-”

“I sent a runner,” Ancel said. “One I trust. They’ll meet us. But they’re not in so much danger as you. _Hurry.”_

It felt strange to steal out of Arles by darkness. It felt even stranger to trust someone like this, but by then it was undeniable. Berenger was a fool in love, and he couldn’t hold back a part of himself when his whole heart was clamoring for Ancel, any way he could have him.

After they reached home, Berenger got news that the Regent was taking most of his court to Ios, of all places.

“Do you know what he’s doing?” he asked Ancel after he read the letter out loud in his study.

Ancel snorted, coming over to sit on the arm of Berenger’s chair and draping an arm over his shoulders as easy as breathing. “Cementing his position,” he said. “Seducing new allies?” He hummed thoughtfully as he leaned closer, absently running his fingers through Berenger’s hair.

“You don’t think he would…” Ancel started.

“Would what?” Berenger prompted, carefully curling an arm around Ancel’s waist. Ancel only shifted closer as he worried at his lower lip with his teeth.

“If it’s true that Prince Damianos lives… if it’s true that he’s allied himself with Prince Laurent,” Ancel said slowly. “It would make sense that his bastard brother would have conspired against him. Maybe he had help. Maybe the Regent was behind it all along.”

Berenger shivered as the pieces fell into place. Yes. He should have known that a man like the Regent would not be content with only one kingdom.

“Maybe,” Ancel continued, a note of unholy glee entering his tone, “the Regent was behind the King’s death- and the crown prince’s.”

“Auguste was killed in a duel on the battlefield,” Berenger said sharply, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. He’d been there to see it with his own eyes. He still saw it sometimes in his dreams, even now that six years had passed.

Ancel looked at him, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “The Regent is a man of ambition,” he said quietly. “Do you really think Prince Auguste would have survived to rule for long? If it wasn’t battle it would have been poison, or an assassin’s blade. Or worse. This way he went out a hero- in an epic duel that ended a war. He’ll be in the history books.”

It was true, no matter how Berenger hated to hear it. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, fighting not to tremble. “I should have seen it,” he whispered.

To his surprise Ancel laughed. Berenger looked up at him accusingly but Ancel only reached out to brush his hair back from his forehead.

“You never had a chance,” he said with a smile, the statement oddly kind. “You’re too trusting by half. You never would have seen it. Not you- not anyone. Prince Laurent, perhaps. But he was too young. There was nothing you could have done to stop any of it.”

That was another painful thing to hear- more painful for the truth of it. It was oddly comforting, coming from Ancel.

“There’s nothing you can do now,” Ancel said finally. “So come to bed and teach me to read more. We were in the middle of the tale of Bluebeard- I want to find out what’s in the forbidden room.”

Berenger smiled, charmed at the suggestion. Ancel hated their reading lessons and made no secret of it. But he’d suggested this, now, because he wanted to get Berenger’s mind off the painful truths of the world.

“I doubt you’ll like what happens next,” Berenger said, standing. He paused for a laugh of his own. “Although I don’t think you’ll be very surprised.”

* * *

Messengers were few and far in between, but finally there was a missive that made Berenger sigh sharply as he set the letter down.

“What is it?” Ancel asked, coming closer to perch on the arm of Berenger’s chair.

Berenger leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk before dropping his face into his hands. It was over. Everything was over.

“The Regent has taken Prince Laurent into custody,” he said quietly. “There’s to be a trial in Ios.”

“What?!” Ancel exclaimed, grabbing the letter to read it for himself, slowly mouthing out the words. “Laurent- he’s a viper. He’ll find a way to wriggle out of it.”

“No,” Berenger said. “It’s a sham trial, with sham evidence. The Regent will get what he wants, as always. The crown of two kingdoms.”

He’d never felt as hopeless as he did in that moment. It took over two weeks for a message to reach Varenne from Ios. Laurent was probably already dead. If Auguste were alive, he’d never forgive Berenger for how he’d failed his brother.

“What am I to do?” Berenger muttered. He couldn’t very well support the Regent’s reign, especially not when he’d probably come for him as a traitor. He couldn’t stand against him, either. Not alone. “The troops of Varenne are still depleted from the last war. And even if they weren’t- we couldn’t stand against the full force of Vere. I can’t- I can’t ask my men to die for no reason. I’ll have to- to surrender to the Regent’s mercy.” He shuddered just thinking of it.

“So you plan to simply lie down and die?” Ancel asked sharply.

“What are my other options?” Berenger demanded, dropping his hands to look into Ancel’s furious face. “I have nothing else!” 

Ancel’s eyes were flashing with anger, and then all of a sudden- he softened.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you lack imagination?” Ancel asked with a smile.

“Excuse me?” Berenger asked, voice rising incredulously. 

He watched as Ancel brought the letter up to the flickering lamp on his desk, letting the parchment catch fire. Slowly the missive was consumed, the flames rising until they were licking at Ancel’s elegantly manicured fingers. He let the burning remains drift to the stone floor, forgotten.

“There’s a whole world outside Vere,” Ancel said. He said it softly, like a promise.

“You suggest I- run.”

“I’ll run with you,” Ancel said, moving to straddle his lap.

“Will you,” Berenger said flatly. The way Ancel was smiling didn’t change anything about their dismal situation, but it made Berenger’s heart flutter so he felt better all the same. “And what of Varenne?”

“It’s not in the Regent’s best interests to let the province go to seed,” Ancel said, reaching out to stroke the side of Berenger’s face. He’d been doing those sorts of things more now- _touching_ him when he didn’t have to. “He’ll put someone else in charge. Your people will be fine. I doubt their new Lord will remember all their names, or kneel in the mud to help their horses foal, but they’ll be fine.”

Berenger laughed quietly, closing his eyes and leaning into Ancel’s touch. He let his hands rest on Ancel’s waist, thumbs gliding easily over the smooth silks he wore.

“We could go to Vask, perhaps,” Ancel continued easily. “I could disguise myself as a woman and pretend you’re my thrall.”

Berenger laughed louder at that.

“Or Patras,” Ancel said. “We could find ourselves a cosy manor close to the sea and you can raise horses.”

“We’d have nothing,” Berenger said, playing along just to humor him. “Would you really stay with me through that?”

Ancel scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “You really have no idea how the real world works, do you.” It wasn’t a question and he didn’t wait for Berenger to reply before raising his hands to his neck, opening the clasp of the elaborate emerald necklace Berenger had gifted him back in Arles.

“This is a lavish farm house in the country,” he said, setting the necklace down on the desk, “or a modest dwelling in the city. This-” he raised his hand to pull a diamond earring from his ear, “-is a dozen horses. This-” he pulled out the other, setting both on the table where they glittered in the lamp light, “is half a dozen servants for at least a year, maybe two.

“And then there’s the rest of it,” Ancel said, systematically taking off all his rings to leave them in the same glittering pile. “We wouldn’t have _nothing._ And if you think I can’t float you to the top of society even without these trinkets- then I’m a little offended.”

“Oh,” Berenger breathed out quietly, winded at the proposition. Ancel was _serious._ He could tell by the way Ancel was looking at him, fond and warm. Without his tricks for once.

“Why not take to the high seas?” Berenger asked, starting to smile himself. “We could be fearsome pirates.”

“I’ve never been on a ship,” Ancel said, bringing his hands back up to cradle Berenger’s face. He stroked Berenger’s cheeks gently with his thumbs, making Berenger shiver. “What if I get seasick? It wouldn’t be very attractive.”

“We’ll be raiders instead,” Berenger murmured, leaning closer. “Terrors of the merchant routes. We’d wear masks and cloaks I’d teach you to use a crossbow. We’d steal all the finest silks and jewels for you to wear.”

Ancel laughed in delight. “So you do have an imagination after all.” 

He leaned forward and brushed a tentative kiss against Berenger’s lips before pulling back. It was over so quickly Berenger wasn’t sure it had even happened. Except Ancel was blushing brightly and Berenger’s lips were tingling. There was no reason for Ancel to kiss him, no one watching. He’d simply done it because he’d wanted to.

“So you see?” Ancel asked quietly. “Don’t lie down and die.”

“Oh,” Berenger breathed out, tightening his hold on Ancel’s waist. Ancel had kissed him. Ancel had asked him to run away with him, had offered to give up all his jewels, and then he’d _kissed_ him. Everything else seemed far away and unimportant. “I think I- I think I see, yes.”

Ancel leaned back in and Berenger let his eyes close, running his hands up Ancel’s back and into his hair, breathing out slowly as their lips came into contact once more. It wasn’t like the time at Arles, it wasn’t rushed or performative. It was slow and almost lazy, a gentle exploration. Berenger let Ancel take the lead, let Ancel’s gentle touches to his jaw and neck direct the way he moved.

He wasn’t particularly experienced at this, but that didn’t seem to matter. He simply did what he’d been aching to do for so long- touched Ancel, explored his mouth with his tongue, ran his fingers through Ancel’s silken hair. Ancel was hot in his arms, eager and shifting restlessly already. When Berenger moved to cradle Ancel’s ass in his hands, Ancel only moaned quietly and leaned closer.

After what seemed like ages Ancel pulled back, flushed and panting, to press their foreheads together. “Take me to bed,” he whispered.

Berenger stroked his thigh, enjoying the slide of silk under his palm, the heat of Ancel’s body underneath. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Ancel laughed and moved to kiss him once more. “I want to. Is it so unbelievable that I want to?”

“We don’t have to do it all at once,” Berenger persisted cautiously. “If we’re to run away together, we’ll have all the time in the world, won’t we?”

“Don’t be a tease,” Ancel said, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve been waiting for ages now.”

Berenger laughed breathlessly, pressing his face against Ancel’s silk-clad chest. “Alright,” he said, because he’d been waiting for ages too. He’d been waiting his whole life for someone he wanted to want him back.

Ancel stood and took Berenger’s hand, leading him to the bedroom.

It was so easy to tumble into the sheets together, so right. Berenger let go of his rigid control and let himself simply _touch_ Ancel, stroking his chest and thighs, his arms. Ancel touched him back just as eagerly, with just as much awe, and it was a revelation. Berenger had spent so long _desiring_ that he’d never imagined being _desired._

He’d only thought of himself as a vessel, a worshiper. He’d never dared think that anyone would truly want him, not like this. He’d never dared imagine being touched like he was something precious, like the way Ancel was touching him now, kissing him now. Eager and sensual and just on the edge of desperate. He’d never imagined anything like the way Ancel clutched at his back and hips, pressed against him with bit-off moans and breathy gasps.

Ancel was the one who made a small sound of annoyance and shrugged out of his clothing, and then all of his beautiful skin was bare for Berenger to stroke and kiss.

“Let me,” Ancel muttered, raising his hands to open Berenger’s laces. And Berenger let him, still not entirely convinced this was really happening.

He focused on kissing every inch of skin now on display, focused on worshiping Ancel’s body before him. Ancel was so beautifully responsive, and Berenger felt in his gut that it wasn’t a lie. He let himself kiss Ancel’s neck, his nipples, swiping his tongue over the pink buds as they tightened. He paid attention to the things that seemed to draw the loudest moans from Ancel and did them again, and more.

“What do you want?” Ancel gasped, and the question rocked Berenger down to his core.

“You,” he managed. “You- any way you’ll have me.”

“What a dangerous thing to offer,” Ancel laughed. “What if I decided I wanted to fuck you?”

Ancel was joking, surely. That wasn’t how these things were done. And still- Berenger couldn’t help thinking that that’s the way he’d always imagined it, before. With the stableboy he’d been infatuated with when he was young, with _Auguste._ He’d never really imagined how it would be with Ancel. He’d never dared, so sure that he could never have this.

But now all he could think about was the first time he’d seen Ancel in the ring, the way he’d pushed Rouart’s pet down and-

“Oh,” Ancel breathed out, his eyes widening.

Berenger flushed. Somehow he’d given himself away.

“Oh,” Ancel repeated, moving to kiss him furiously. “Oh, yes. Yes, I want-”

Berenger kissed him back, screwing his eyes shut as he ran his hands up the smooth expanse of Ancel’s back, trying not to think. Ancel felt so good on top of him, his thigh between Berenger’s legs grinding down against his cock with every languid movement.

Ancel reached out to grab the oil on the nightstand, dropping it in the sheets before moving to push Berenger’s clothes off and away. He felt too dazed to help, and then it didn’t matter, they were both naked while Ancel kissed his way down Berenger’s chest and pressed slick fingers to his entrance, rubbing gently but firmly.

“Oh,” Berenger breathed out, letting his thighs fall open wider, fighting not to buck up into Ancel’s touch. No one had ever touched him like that, not _there._ He felt raw with the strange intimacy of it, every inch of his skin tingling. He felt oddly ashamed at everything that was happening, and yet that did nothing to quell his desire.

“Yes,” Ancel whispered, and bent to take his cock in his mouth.

All of a sudden Berenger was assaulted by images of another time. Images of the garden- Ancel sucking the Akielon slave that looked so similar to the man who had cut Auguste down. Who had turned out to _be_ the man who had cut Auguste down. His first friend, his first love. His Prince.

He couldn’t help picturing Laurent, coquettishly whispering instructions while he leaned in to look into Damianos’ eyes, couldn’t help picturing the way Damianos had looked back- furious and full of desire- his body taut and powerful despite the flimsy chains that kept him locked to the trellis.

And through it all- Ancel as the willing tool of Laurent’s perverse hatred. It had been grotesque, hideous. And Berenger had watched it all, helpless to stop what what happening even as he felt he might be sick at any moment.

 _“No,”_ he said sharply and Ancel pulled back in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding vulnerable and worst of all- _afraid._

Berenger took a few slow harsh breaths, fighting to cast the memories aside. “Kiss me,” he said hoarsely. “Can you please just kiss me?”

Ancel leaned up and kissed him, and suddenly it was easy again, just them again. Berenger didn’t want to think of anyone or anything else. He braced his leg on the bed and took Ancel by the wrist, flushing as he brought Ancel’s fingers back down to where he really wanted them.

“Please,” he breathed out, and didn’t know where the courage came from.

“Yes,” Ancel whispered, and pushed against him, into him.

Berenger groaned as he felt Ancel breaching him, his body clenching around the intrusion. He’d never done this before, he’d only imagined it. It felt different than he’d expected. It felt more intimate, more strange. But it was real, and it was _good-_ better yet for the knowledge that he was with _Ancel._

“Like that?” Ancel whispered, unsure. Berenger realized this must be new to him, too.

“Yes,” Berenger said, flushing even harder. Ancel was _inside_ him and it felt amazing. It was somehow so wrong to admit it. But he didn’t need to admit it, he could tell by the way Ancel was looking at him that he already knew.

Ancel pushed in more firmly, sliding his finger inside up to the third knuckle. Berenger could only groan in response. He wanted it so badly- needed it.

Slowly, Ancel pushed in and out, the obscene slick sounds of it making Berenger flush. And then he moved to add another finger and Berenger couldn’t think anymore. All he could do was clutch at the sheets, or at Ancel above him. All he could do was try not to spend himself too quickly and make a mess of everything.

“Oh,” Ancel breathed out. “Oh, you really- I never- but you really-”

“Yes,” Berenger managed, nonsensically. All he wanted was more. “Yes, _please,_ Ancel-!”

“Yes,” Ancel said with a quiet laugh, pulling his fingers free and moving to settle between Berenger’s thighs. “Yes, I think- I’ll take care of you. Just relax for me.”

And then he was pushing inside with his cock and Berenger couldn’t _think_ anymore. He felt like an animal, brought down to his base instincts. Ancel felt so huge inside him, so hot and perfect. It burned a little but that was good in its own way- _real._

This was all _real._

Ancel made a small strangled sound of pleasure and Berenger could feel him trembling everywhere they were pressed together.

 _“Oh,”_ he sighed. “It feels- you feel-”

“Kiss me,” Berenger muttered. “Please- please kiss me-”

“Yes,” Ancel breathed out, folding over him.

The change in angle made Berenger cry out in pleasure, and then Ancel was kissing him, slick and hot and unstudied. He wasn’t kissing him the way he had in Arles, when it was for show. It was different now, sloppy and wet and so utterly perfect.

Berenger clutched at Ancel’s back, his hair. He spread his legs wider and braced himself on the bed, pushing up against Ancel because he’d never felt anything this good before, this completely right.

Ancel moaned so Berenger held on tighter, thrusting his tongue into Ancel’s mouth to claim him, own him. He wanted everything. He wanted to keep everything about this moment and live in it, he wanted Ancel to be his in every way that mattered.

It was good- it was so good. It was the best thing he’d ever felt. He held Ancel’s ass cradled in his hands as he moved his own hips to fuck himself up on Ancel’s cock, swallowing all of Ancel’s moans.

“Please,” Ancel whimpered, pulling back to press his face to Berenger’s neck. “Please- please- _please-_ I’m so close- I can’t- I- _”_

“Yes,” Berenger managed. “Yes- _Ancel-”_

Ancel stiffened with a whine, so perfectly unstudied. Berenger felt Ancel pulsing inside him, so he slid a hand down to touch himself, stroking his cock quickly while still overwhelmed by Ancel inside him, on top of him.

It only took a few strokes and then he was crying out too, arching against the sheets. Ancel made a soft sound like bliss and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. It lasted for ages, and then Ancel finally pulled away to land in a sprawl of limbs beside him on the bed.

Berenger laughed in surprise- at how _good_ he felt, at the ridiculous feeling of Ancel’s spend trickling out of him. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, but they’d done it anyway and it had been amazing.

Weakly, Ancel laughed too.

Berenger moved to kiss him for a long tender moment before reality finally caught up with him.

“It’s not too late,” he forced himself to say. “It’s not too late to… find someone else for you. A better Lord, with prospects, contacts to the Regent’s faction-”

“Shut up,” Ancel grumbled, shifting closer. “Don’t I get a say? I don’t want anyone else.”

“Oh,” Berenger said softly, feeling warm all over.

“And anyway,” Ancel continued with a yawn. “You said we’d be bandits, and you’d teach me the crossbow, and I’d wear the finest silks and jewels.”

“I did say that, didn’t I,” Berenger said with a laugh. “Alright. Let’s be bandits, then.”

* * *

Berenger woke, suddenly, to banging on the door. He jerked up in bed, Ancel grumbling beside him as Berenger inadvertently dislodged the arm Ancel had draped over his chest.

For a moment he though this was it- the Regent’s men had come for him.

But they couldn’t be here yet. And they wouldn’t knock.

“Come in!” Berenger called and the door burst open, Parsins striding inside with a missive clutched in his hand.

“My Lord,” he said loudly, frowning as he saw Ancel in his bed, yawning as he came awake.

Berenger took the missive, running his fingers over the creamy parchment. There was a red seal over the letter, _Regency red_. Instead of the Regent’s seal, it was marked by a thumbprint. Ancel draped himself over his back as he broke the seal and unfolded the letter, Parsins still standing over the bed with watchful weariness.

The handwriting- Berenger recognized it. He felt oddly buoyant as he read-

_Dear Baba,_

_My uncle has been found guilty of treason. He has been executed for his crimes while I yet live to take the throne. Vere is mine._

_For all this time you have been a faithful friend to Auguste, and to me. I thank you for that._

_I need you once more. I need you in Arles to ready the court for my coming. There are many traitors afoot and I need you to weed them out._

_I should have known you were ever on my side, but circumstances have conspired against my knowing. Thank you- for all you’ve done._

_I wish I could let you rest, but I need you yet._

_Please-_

_Laurent_

Berenger laughed, letting the letter drop. The wax seal wasn’t Regency red after all- it was Akielon red. Laurent was alive and well in Ios. Despite all the odds stacked against him- he’d emerged victorious.

“What is it?” Ancel demanded, scrambling for the bit of parchment.

“It’s as you said,” Berenger said slowly, smiling so widely his face hurt. “He’s wriggled his way out of it.”

Laurent wasn’t dead. Laurent was alive, and victorious. Everything was as it should be.

“Baba?” Ancel sounded out incredulously.

“It’s what he called me when he was a boy,” Berenger said fondly. “He must have addressed the letter that way so I’d know it wasn’t one of the Regent’s tricks. He wasn’t forced to write it under duress.” He’d thought for a long while now that the boy who’d called him _Baba_ had died with his brother. But he hadn’t. He’d been here all along, behind a wall of ice that was slowly melting.

“We return to Arles,” Berenger announced. “As soon as possible.”

“Yes, your Lordship,” Parsins said, bowing. “I’ll ready your horse.”

Berenger flushed while Ancel laughed.

“The carriage, perhaps,” Ancel said through his giggles.

“Yes,” Berenger said, stiff and awkward as he imagined riding a horse after the thorough fucking Ancel had provided the night before. Twice. “The carriage would be best.”

  
  


_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


End file.
